In a message dated 8/14/02 4:41:46 PM, galathane@hotmail.com writes:

Ten minutes later, she was out and towel drying her hair. Not bothering

with a robe,

(o_o;; -- DBSTS delivers again. One extra-large fanservice scene, extra
sweatdrops, at no additional charge!)

DBSTS?

DBSTS= "Different But Still The Same", natch. I have a feeling this fic
will deserve its own reference acronym. Like UY:TSY, or NETTG. Or maybe I 

just

didn't feel like typing it all out. It's all good.

Indeed.

(Not to carry the unfair small-town-Southern cracks too far, but perhaps
"good genetics" isn't the likeliest factor here. Seriously, you're no

more likely outside of farmer's daughter stories to find fitness-mag cover

models on farms than you are in the burbs. Rural living conditions and lots
of manual labour don't always amount to well-shaped bodies.)

Yeah, but then how could I write the skinny-dipping scene I have planned

for chapter-whoops! Heh heh. Uh...I...uh...

[Schultz] I know nothing![/Schultz]

Jeez, do my high blood pressure a favor and dial it down a bit, wouldja?

I'm still flashing on the bouncing quarter bit. Boioioioinnnngg! (-_-;;;)

It could be worse, I could have her trying to figure out how much bigger 
Bunny's chest is then hers. 

had already put together both couches and the large computer desk.

Even now, she was humming to herself as she screwed together the bookcase.

(I'm sorry -- I just can't comment further! I've reached my saturation
point for lemony allusions.)

I'll take that as a compliment. =)

Just be thankful I didn't ask: "How many Southern girls does it take to
screw the furniture together?" That would be going over the line, methinks

Just be thankful I don't write lemons.

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